


Blood

by CrackingLamb



Series: Just Like Fire - Prompt Fills for La'vise Lavellan [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: A tiny bit of UST, F/M, Mild Injury, Mutual Pining, No Plot/Plotless, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26269744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrackingLamb/pseuds/CrackingLamb
Summary: La'vise has a small injury, Solas has healing hands.
Relationships: Female Lavellan & Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Solas
Series: Just Like Fire - Prompt Fills for La'vise Lavellan [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901281
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	Blood

“You're bleeding,” Solas said. La'vise lifted her arm and checked where he was pointing and sure enough, her armor was shredded, her shirt split open and her skin sliced by the blade from their bandit attackers. She shrugged; it would hold until they got back to camp.

“I'll be fine,” she said.

He frowned, brows drawn together, eyes stormy. But he said nothing further and kept walking. If he walked a little closer and paid more attention to their surroundings than he usually did, she wasn't going to complain. She was never quite sure where his head was when they traveled. He spoke little, ate even less and – to her knowledge – didn't spend much time in the tent space allocated to him. She'd asked him only once about that. He'd offered her a small smile and told her he liked to wander, that he had been a wanderer most of his life.

They got back to camp and La'vise stripped off her armor as soon as she saw the perimeter guards on duty. Varric and Cassandra were bickering, not paying any attention to her at all and she ducked into her tent to grab a fresh shirt as well as her soap. No sense letting the wound stay dirty. When she ducked back out to the camp, she nearly barreled into Solas, who put his hands on her arms to hold her balanced until she got her feet under her.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“Do you need assistance?” he asked. For a moment she was confused, and he nodded toward the cut on her side. She had to admit, it was in an awkward position to clean, but she doubted very highly that allowing him to do it for her was going to be any _less_ awkward.

“I...”

“It is no trouble,” he assured her. She nodded then and led the way to the shallow pool under one of the numerous falls that flowed through the Hinterlands. She tugged off her boots and unlaced the leather trousers she wore and waded into the water until it reached her waist. Behind her, Solas followed, having stripped off nothing more than the wraps he wore on his legs and the strange bone necklace he wore everywhere.

The water was chilly and she felt her skin prickle with goosebumps. It made the edges of her wound sting and she hissed.

“Let me see it,” Solas said, moving through the shallow water with more grace than he had any right to. La'vise flushed, thankful the sun could be blamed for it, and turned sideways to him, lifting her shirt up around her shoulders to preserve some modicum of decency. His fingers were cool on her skin, making it pucker more. He hummed under his breath. “It should be cleaned before I heal it.”

Wordlessly she held up her soap and watched in a highly bemused state as he took it from her and dipped it in the water to wet it. The first swipe against her side made her flinch and his hand went around her opposite hip, holding her steady as he worked. She was torn between embarrassment and desire suddenly and the realization made them both worse. She'd promised to give him all the time he needed to make a decision, and she truly understood why he might be reluctant. They were elves caught up in a human conflict. He was an apostate, surviving as part of her inner circle by her own good grace and the necessity that went hand in hand with the chaos. And he had secrets. She could see them in every single line of his body.

The soap caught on the torn edges of skin and she flinched again. Solas swore under his breath. It was mildly scandalous to hear from such a typically placid man. But she was learning that was very like him, the surface ran smooth over a well that was depthless. She felt a trickle run down her side and peeked under her arm. The scabs had softened and torn open and the cut was bleeding again, a slim runnel of bright scarlet against her skin. He seemed transfixed by the sight of it, and she grew still under his gaze, hardly daring to breathe. There was some kind of hunger in his eyes, something nameless and dark and heady. She couldn't tell if it was the blood running down her side or just the expanse of bare skin. He looked like he wanted to _lick_ her. It was...horribly arousing to think about.

“Solas?” she said, abruptly breathless. His eyes snapped to hers, glittering and hard like gemstones.

“Forgive me,” he said, cupping a handful of water and letting it pour over her side to rinse. He poured water over the cut until the soap was gone and the beads of blood had stopped. She was shivering now. He shifted around so she was nearly in his embrace and his palm smoothed over the cut, glowing as he healed her. The sensation was a shock, tinged almost like sparks of static and so, so cold it was numbing. Without thought, she leaned on him a little, and he moved his free arm around her to keep her in place. Her back brushed against his chest, her hips colliding with his just the barest fraction. She remembered all of a sudden that she wore no pants.

He was hard behind her and she froze.

“I am almost finished, Inquisitor,” he said, his voice right in her ear. She closed her eyes and pretended she wasn't trembling from the heat in his tone. He had made her title a caress. He was in no way self-conscious about poking her in the back while he worked, his face wasn't even flushed. It was all she could do not to turn around and wrestle him to the ground. Only the fact that they stood waist high in water stopped her. His fingers trailed across her ribs as he drew away. It was so light she couldn't tell if it was accidental or not. He stepped away immediately and peered at his handiwork with a nod, then turned and waded back out of the water without a backward glance.

“I will let you finish bathing,” he said. She watched him go, dripping into the pool, her body heated even as she shivered. One thing was for certain. He may have asked for time to consider things, but he was not disinterested. It was certainly a good place to start.


End file.
